


Bake Me A Bullet

by JayPendragon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - The Purge Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Social Commentary, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers, baker!Steve, minor adult Starker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 20:09:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17311061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayPendragon/pseuds/JayPendragon
Summary: Bucky helps Steve, his boss and man of his dreams, compete on the Purge Night special of a baking competition reality show. They wrap just in time to get home before Commencement, but when fellow contestants Peter and MJ need a lift to Queens, something goes very, very wrong…~*~… aka the angsty Purge AU deaded_blush wanted for her birthday, with aSugar Rushtwist she didn't. Can be read without prior knowledge of the Purge franchise.





	Bake Me A Bullet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deaded_blush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaded_blush/gifts).



> I don't even know, okay? [Deaded_blush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaded_blush/pseuds/deaded_blush) asked for a Marvel Purge AU for her birthday and I didn't want to go the obvious route. Then I started watching Netflix's _Sugar Rush_ and my mind went all baker!Steve and… this happened? 
> 
> Posting this on the anniversary of receiving [beautiful fanart](https://plavkivie.tumblr.com/post/169341945736/raising-hybrid-puppies-by-jayez-on-ao3-my-fanart) for ["Raising Hybrid Puppies"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596698/chapters/26065548), which kicked off the most awesome friendship. Here's to many years more, sis!
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing merlenhiver, who was very skeptical and whose verdict is now the official tagline of this fic: "Your angst comes covered in cake frosting. I love it. :)))))))))"
> 
>  **WARNINGS** for violence, discussions of sugary foods, and my first time writing Bucky's POV (even if it's AU).
> 
>  **If you're unfamiliar with The Purge, here's all you need to know:**  
>  In an alternate USA, the annual Purge is something the New Founding Father established to reduce crime. For one night a year, from 7pm to 7am, all crime is allowed, including murder. Lots of Purgers like to wear masks on purge night.  
> This fic is most influenced by the second and third Purge movie, but doesn't contain any spoilers.

Everyone's eyes are on him, Bucky can feel it. 

They should be on their stations, stirring cake batter or preheating ovens, but nope, they're gaping at Bucky like he holds the secret to winning this fucking reality show. Sure, they're trying to be surreptitious about it, and they might've even been successful if they weren't sneaking glances at a trained sniper.

"What's their problem?" Bucky hisses at Steve, the only person in the entire kitchen not staring, thank the gods. 

Instead, the punk's folding mashed sweet potatoes into their cream cheese frosting, eyes alight with laser focus underneath the studio lamps cause he's in his element, isn't he. He's the baker and Bucky's just, well… the assistant. 

And yet he's here next to Steve, chopping pumpkin with the speed of a, a… a pumpkin killing machine – oh, maybe that's why Jocelyn from station three keeps looking at him?

Bucky can't help but snort. "You'd think they ain't ever seen someone slice a pumpkin before."

Steve tears his stare away from his task and gives the room a quick sweep, then grins at Bucky. It's one of them mischievous ones with a glint in his eyes that make Bucky curse the day he spotted the 'Help wanted' sign in the window of this tiny bakery in Williamsburg. 

"Not with your technique, I bet they haven't," Steve says, then goes right back to his frosting. 

His tone's fond and proud, and Bucky hopes the cameras don't catch his reaction cause his chest feels like it's melting. 

It sucks, having an audience in the kitchen and being judged by some rich douchebags who, okay, might know what they're doing in terms of cupcakes and confections and cakes, which are the three rounds they have to complete and fucking finally Bucky's done with the pumpkin and can start on – wait, where was he? 

Cameras, right. Cause they're competing against three other teams for $10,000 that they really, really need right now. 

Bucky's heard the other contestants coo about how they're gonna use the money to go shopping or upgrade the equipment in their own shops which is already three years out of date, can you believe it, how do we even manage to bake _anything_ people wanna buy?

They can all fuck right off. That money is Steve's. 

The punk's gotta win, or else he might as well kiss his bakery goodbye. It's Purge night and they gotta upgrade their insurance plan before Commencement so they won't have to risk their lives trying to protect it. 

When Steve first approached Bucky, all "We work so well together, you're such a great assistant", the prize money was intended to upgrade their security systems so they wouldn't even have to be there any more on the most dangerous night of the year... but that hope died along with Bucky's belief in democracy when the insurance premiums went up. 

It's class warfare, that's what it is. They can shove their sanctimonious excuses right up their snobby asses along with their overpriced rifles and alarm systems. 

But. Pumpkin. 

Or rather, pumpkin pie cupcakes – that's what they're making for round one, along with Steve's sweet potato cream cheese frostings and decorative elements. 

No one expects Steve, in all his six-foot-two glory, with that jaw of his and those arms, not to mention those big, strong hands… anyway, no one expects a guy like that to be able to pull off the most intricate edible decorations, which is why it's all the more amazing to see the judges do a spit-take when they reveal their creations. 

Including Tony Stark, annoying guest judge extraordinaire. 

"Ohhh," Stark goes, plucking one of the miniature spoons Steve made right off his cupcake and holding it to the judge lady. "May I be your little spoon?"

The woman's laugh has a stilted edge to it, which their host picks up on, too, and asks Steve to tell them about their creation and flavors before Stark has the chance to add another lewd comment. 

While Steve's busy explaining their take on the theme, aka 'Commencement meal on Purge night', Bucky checks their competitors' stations. 

Jocelyn and her husband are almost done as well, but their presentation is quite underwhelming. Best friends and colleagues Amos and Dylan apparently messed up their batter so they're only just getting a second batch out of the oven. 

And then there's Peter and MJ.

Bucky figured they're recent culinary school graduates what with how skilled they are. He also thought they're a couple, but then he overheard them going on about how hot Steve looks with cream cheese smudges on his face, and fantasizing about putting a down payment on a location in Queens so they can move their catering business out of the kitchen of MJ's parents.

Professional training or not, they're good, and advance to the next round along with Jocelyn, as well as Steve and Bucky.

"They're plating already," Steve says half an hour later, obviously getting frazzled. 

"Let them plate," Bucky says, "we're almost done, too."

Indeed they hit their buzzer right after the judges complete tasting Peter and MJ's Purge night themed confections. 

Steve and Bucky's are a fucking work of art, if Bucky dare say so himself: their task was to feature an element from Purge night, yet while MJ went all social justice warrior and made a rogue ambulance with Peter, Bucky and Steve went a more conservative route. 

Stark's delighted, needless to say. 

"Oh, the level of detail on this!" Stark gushes, cause of course he would. "Why're you so familiar with last-gen uzis?"

Steve glances at Bucky, who looks away. 

"Mother Russia thanks you for your service," Stark says and takes a bite out of his assault-rifle-shaped confection while Bucky ignores the well of memories bubbling up in him at the reminder. Making three different weapons was bad enough, even if it's just confections. 

Each judge has a set of them, peeking out from a sports bag that Steve made out of edible wafer paper and an ultra-thin cookie at the bottom. 

Bucky can't help the chuckle that escapes him when they advance to the final round – who'd have thought the uses he gets out of being brainwashed and tortured a few years after the fact. 

Peter and MJ advance to the final as well, though Bucky doubts they got Stark's vote because of their spectacular buttercream... or at least not the sugary kind.

Whatever. So Stark's got the hots for the kid. Don't mean he and the little social justice warrior stand a chance. 

"And what awaits our bakers now, Tony?" the host says and Stark smirks at them. 

"For the final round, I wanna see the day after. So imagine Purge night's over, we're back to normal. I want a huge cake and your take on how it's gonna look when the dust settles."

Steve and Bucky took longer, so they've gotta wait until the banked minutes of Peter and MJ are up, but soon enough, Steve's sketching as if his life depended on it. 

Well, today it sorta does. 

Design-wise, Steve wants the huge bottom layer to mimic the street. Smaller, layered stacked cakes are the buildings. They're gonna coat a sheet of rice crackers in frosting which Steve's gonna paint with his signature technique to show a watercolor sunrise over the Manhattan skyline.

On the street, raspberry mousse will be the blood, all decorations either sugar or fondant or chocolate. It's ambitious to get done in three hours and twenty-two minutes but they've got a few tricks up their sleeves… 

… which all fail. 

First, the small cakes for the foreground buildings won't come out of their pans. 

Steve's hair is a mess, his hands gotta be cramping from painting the background, and his eyes are wild like this – it's what Bucky imagines Steve looked like on the battlefield. 

"We can't use this," he mutters, "and we don't have time for a new batch. It's never gonna cool in time for the icing to stick –"

"Microwave it," Bucky cuts in. "Forty-five seconds, same consistency. I got the time, I'll just have to haul ass and finish slicing the fruit."

Steve stares at him for a second, then nods. 

Then their banana cream tastes way too faint cause MJ and Peter, the little fuckers, took all the ripe bananas out of the pantry before Bucky could get to them.

"Should we risk it?" Steve's expression answers his own question. "What else could we do?"

"What about yellow mustard?"

Steve blinks. "On the _cake_?"

"Hear me out," Bucky says. "Remember that time the sponge cake cracked and you left it on the table? Well, it looked like bread and we had that new mustard, and I was hungry… Anyway, maybe we can do a layer chocolate, then the walnut, and finish with the mustard combo? You're always telling me your creations gotta tell a story."

"I don't know, Buck, that's quite a risk, and we only have an hour left. I don't know if –"

"It's fine, mate, you don't gotta listen to me, I'm just the cream whipper." 

Steve's frown mellows. "No, no, you're – we're a team, Buck."

He decidedly ignores how he goes all warm and fuzzy at the proclamation.

"Mustard on our cake. Let's do it."

In the end, even Tony Stark is impressed. His vote still goes to the kid cause his dick's more powerful than his taste buds (not that Bucky's surprised) and he apparently found MJ's dash of social commentary "refreshing".

Steve and he earn one vote from the cupcake lady, meaning the Aussie judge gets to decide their fate. 

Peter and MJ are holding hands next to them. Bucky wants to do the same with Steve but doesn't, too aware of the cameras around them. 

Only then Steve puts an arm round his shoulders when the Aussie draws out his announcement and Bucky's pulse stutters. 

Damn, he can't go on like this. As soon as Purge is over, he's gonna ask that punk for a date. 

He's so lost in his thought that he almost missed the announcement. 

"Your overall look, taste, everything was spot on. My vote goes to Steve and Bucky."

The host beams at them. "Congratulations! You've won $10,000!"

It's fucking amazing cause _holy shit_ , they get to extend their Purge night insurance. 

But Bucky also gets a hug from Steve, and that's an even better prize. 

*

Steve uses the short break they get before shooting some weird-ass after-the-fact commentary footage to call the insurance. Bucky hovers nearby, too high-strung to focus on anything else, which is why he notices the moment it goes wrong. 

"They can't extend without receiving payment," Steve says, shoulders slumping. 

"You tell them about the prize money?"

A shrug. 

"Well, where's their fucking office? We can drop it off in person. We'll finish at five, means we still got two hours before Commencement."

That puts a smile back on Steve's face and Bucky's pulse flutters. 

Only problem – they don't finish at five. 

They're halfway through the interviews they need so they have some inane voice overs to cut into the episode before it airs when the producer decides she isn't happy with Steve's hair so they get makeup back and shoot the shit all over again.

By the time they finally make it out of the studio, it's 6.15 pm and Bucky's pissed. The insurance carrier is close by, but they still gotta drive back all the way to Brooklyn before seven.

"When's the last bus today?" Steve asks out of the blue on the way to their battered van. 

"Huh?"

"Look."

Bucky follows Steve's gaze and bites down a curse. Of course it's MJ and Peter, eyes darting between their phones and the timetable at the bus stop across the street. While they're watching, all the energy bleeds from Peter's posture and MJ kicks the ground with a curse.

"Guess the last bus left," Bucky wagers, turning back to the van. 

He makes it two whole steps before he realizes Steve didn't follow. 

"Steve, no. We ain't got the time."

"We do if we hurry."

"Steve –"

"They'll never make it back to Queens without a ride, and no cab's gonna stop this close to Commencement."

"We shouldn't stop so close to Commencement! We're lucky the insurance guys want our money more than they wanna play it safe –"

"Bucky. Please."

 _Jesus fucking Christ_ , that look should be illegal. 

Of course Bucky folds like a house of cards. 

Peter and MJ thank them profusely – or rather, Peter does, cause MJ was obviously raised by wolves. 

"Wolves wouldn't have hesitated before offering," she points out when Bucky says as much. 

"MJ –"

"They won. This is the least they can do."

Steve seems to agree, so Bucky keeps his mouth shut. 

*

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that." 

"They said on the phone that you could upgrade our plan if we bring the money by."

"In cash, yes. But I'm afraid your check has to be cleared before I can confirm the upgrade."

Bucky would be strangling the damn clerk right now, but Steve's too pure and good to start Purge early.

"Can't you make an exception?" Steve's voice is starting to waver. "We won this fair and square. It's gonna clear, I swear. But we need that upgrade. It's about my shop –"

"Everyone needs the upgrade," the clerk interrupts. "Doesn't mean they can afford it."

"What if we cash it, come back with that?" Bucky tries, but –

"Good luck finding a bank that's open. Oh, and my shift ends in three minutes."

"Please, ma'am. We –"

"Sorry," she says, sounding anything but, and Bucky just snaps. 

"Listen, missy," he say, getting all up in her face, "this guy's been busting his ass for the past five years to get his shop up and running and every year during this goddamn Purge something happens and every goddamn year you shitheads find another loophole so you ain't gotta cover all the repairs. It ain't right, and you can do something about it, so I suggest you reach inside your privileged ass and find some fucking humanity, cause this guy deserves an exception and it's not gonna be any hide off your back."

Bucky's pulse is racing when he's done. The clerk didn't even twitch. 

Before Bucky can start on his plan B – intimidation – noise from the front door draws their attention. 

It's Peter and MJ, both panicked and scared, both shouting about someone taking the van. 

Bucky is off running a split second later, crosses the threshold onto the street but all he sees is their van, their beloved van stuffed with _all the best equipment they own_ , drive off at breakneck speed. 

Steve comes to a stop next to him, looking as gutted as Bucky feels. 

It's 6.30 pm and they're stranded in Midtown on Purge night. 

*

MJ is the first to break the silence. "We need to find shelter. We'll never get back to Queens now."

"We can't leave the shop undefended," Steve says, his posture shifting, like it did when the kitchen caught fire once and Steve went full-on Captain Rogers on everyone from one second to the next. 

"You head to Brooklyn, then," MJ snaps. "We look for shelter. Come on, Parker."

"I – what about May?"

"She's fine –"

"She'll be worried, I..."

"What, you wanna _walk_ back? It would take more than an hour. You read the statistics, didn't you? Most casualties happen in the first ninety minutes."

"I can't leave her alone, not after Ben –" Peter breaks off and Bucky looks away. He knows grief and loss when he sees it. 

"So you want to trek all the way across the most densely populated patch on the East Coast during the most deadly night of the year, to ensure your aunt doesn't lose you? Please tell me you at least see the flaw in that logic."

Bucky doubts flaws in someone's logic are gonna be their biggest problem. 

"Guys," Steve says.

MJ and Peter turn as one. They freeze as one, too. 

A group of Purgers is advancing on them, masks firmly in place and fanning out until they're closed in against the side of the insurance building. Bucky takes a step towards the automatic doors, spots the clerk on the other side of the glass –

But before he can so much as shout at the lady to let them in, the sound of locks engaging cuts through the air. A second later, heavy iron shutters descend from above the doors. 

Shit. 

Maybe the clerk's part of the group. Maybe the clerk's gonna join them once she's closed up for the night and purge for the fun of it. Maybe the lady was just as scared as they are and decided to save her own ass. 

Doesn't matter. What matters is that they're cornered, with no way out. 

On his own, Bucky wouldn't hesitate. The moment that horn blared he'd fall back into training and slice through the eleven Purgers like butter. Yet with two civilians in their midst and fucking Steve there, it's not that simple. Steve has no idea about his past; for all he knows Bucky was just a decent sniper. 

Speaking of Steve, the punk's taken a step towards the obvious leader of the group, tall with nice clothes, a sparkling watch, and an array of weapons at his hip that probably cost more than all of Bucky's worldly possessions. 

"No one needs to get hurt here," Steve says. 

He sounds calm but there's tension coiled right underneath the surface, and Bucky really shouldn't think it's hot in a situation like this but he's always been a little fucked up. 

The leader cocks his head. The mask is already smiling. "We're not here to hurt you. Yet."

"Then would you please let us through?" MJ asks. "We have places to be."

She goes ignored. 

Bucky finds Steve's eye, and glances to the Purgers on his right. Steve's jaw clenches – he likes this as little as Bucky, but there's no choice if they want to get out of this alive. The group surrounding them seems happy enough to wait until the blaring horn signals Commencement. 

Steve nods before angling his stance slightly towards the other goons. 

Bucky explodes into movement. 

The first two go down simultaneously, clutching their throats and coughing horribly. The third takes a blow to his face that shatters his nose, the forth comes at Bucky from behind and earns a well-aimed kick to the groin that has him whining on the ground a split-second later. 

He tackles a fifth when she advances on MJ and Peter, who're going for the weapons of the ones Bucky took down, but this one's feisty and holds her own for a full minute in hand-to-hand combat. It's the taste of blood on his tongue that makes Bucky snap. 

He doesn't kill her, but it's close. 

When he blinks back into the present, the leader and three others are running away and Steve's trading blows with a Chinese chick, the only non-white person in the group as far as Bucky could tell, and a pretty decent fighter. 

She might even have come out on top – Steve's quite agile for his bulk, but stands no chance against the speed of a woman who's maybe a hundred-twenty soaking wet – if it weren't for Bucky. 

He advances, flicks an AK off the ground with a kick and shoots her knee to pieces. 

Steve's eyes are wide when they meet Bucky's again. Whatever Steve sees makes him flinch.

Bucky has no time to regret it – the horn blares. 

The annual Purge has officially begun. 

The remaining goons reach for their guns but Bucky's quicker. He has enough presence of mind to merely aim to incapacitate before stripping them off all their weapons. 

Steve accepts the semi-automatic and the knife with a terse nod. 

"It was a trap, wasn't it?" Peter whispers. "Stealing the van? Wha– why?"

MJ, meanwhile, is staring at Bucky. Something in her expression makes Bucky certain that she caught Stark's comment on Mother Russia and has connected the dots. 

"To kick the Purge off with a bang, that's why," Bucky grumbles, mostly to steer the conversation into safer waters. "It's a sport for them. Let's hunt down the poor motherfuckers who can't afford a state-of-the-art security system or to take the day off and hole up at home, or just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong fucking time."

Peter seems to be unable to come up with a reply and merely swallows. 

"We gotta get off the street," Steve says finally. "We're sitting ducks."

"Give me a gun."

Bucky cocks an eyebrow at MJ. "You know how to fire this thing?"

"Got to know what you're protesting against."

"Then show me."

She does, but she has atrocious posture and technique. Bucky corrects, using the chance to give Peter a crash course, too, reminding himself to be gentle. These two probably ever only saw violence on TV or in those self-righteous documentaries about the annual Purge.

"You're a good teacher," Steve tells him before they head off. 

He says it neutrally, neither smile nor scowl on his face, but he does say it, and he doesn't avoid eye contact. Whatever impression Bucky's outburst had on Steve, hope doesn't seem to be lost yet.

*

They decide on heading to Brooklyn. Peter sends off a voice note to his aunt in which he lies through his teeth with an ease that piques Bucky's interest, but he files that away for later. 

They make slow progress. Again, on his own, Bucky would be able to sneak soundlessly past the gaggles of Purgers and duck out of sight of the pick-up trucks and vans, but with civilians in the mix, it takes ages. 

All things considered, though, Bucky guesses they should be glad they make it all the way through to Little Italy until they come across something they can't ignore. 

They just crossed Worth Street and planned to follow Lafayette to get onto the Brooklyn Bridge walkway, but then there's screaming from their left and they simply have to check. 

A rogue ambulance has been forced to a stop in Foley Square outside the City's Supreme Court by what looks like a gang of about thirty Purgers. 

Bucky has heard of them: brave docs and nurses and EMTs tending to the injured cause hospitals can't – emergency services are suspended during Purge night, after all. 

Usually, ambulances and their personnel are off limits, not to be attacked. 

Not to these guys. 

MJ makes to intervene but Steve grabs her arm. 

"We got to help them!" she hisses, yanking free of Steve's grip. 

"Not without a plan."

She clearly didn't expect Steve to agree and is left gaping cause she doesn't know him as well as Bucky does. He woulda bet all his (meagre) possessions that Steve's bleeding heart was gonna compel him to intervene instead of minding his own fucking business, which would be the sensible thing to do in the face of Purgers who're willfully ignoring the neutrality of rogue EMTs. 

"Find shelter," Steve says. "Somewhere safe."

"Like hell I'm gonna let you go in there alone, punk." 

"Bucky, I couldn't ask you –"

"I'm offering. I thought we're a team."

Steve hesitates. 

"You saw what he did," MJ interrupts. "You'd be stupid not to let him help."

Bucky nods in a 'what she said' kind of way and pretends the way Steve smiles at him doesn't make his pulse flutter. It's the adrenaline, that's all.

Right – cause they got EMTs to save. 

By now, the three people from the ambulance, two chicks and a guy, are pleading with the thirty or so Purgers who're drawing this out like the sick fuckers they are. On the other hand, it buys them time to formulate a plan.

"How are you over distance?" Steve asks.

"Would be better with an M50 in my hand, but this'll do."

He gets into position as quickly as he can, close to the street and a bit higher up, waits for Steve's raised fist to be visible across Foley Square – their signal – and starts counting down from 15. 

14... 13...

He selects the bulkiest guy, currently threatening an EMT with a – or, wait. 

10... 9...

The chick on the side – is that a grenade at her belt? _Fuck._

5... 4... 3...

Bucky adjusts. Takes aim. 

Exhale. 

_ZING._

The grenade lady drops, as does a tall guy on Steve's side. 

Bucky fires again and catches the bulky Purger in the temple before he can so much as make for cover. His team mates had more luck; most are hiding behind the rogue ambulance now or running directly into Steve's and Bucky's bullets, but three have grabbed onto the EMTs and are using them as human shields. 

Bucky bites down a curse. It's too dark to get quick shots in and he has no clue how long he's got to set up a shot until Steve barges onto the scene and messes up his sight lines. 

Better be quick. 

The male EMT screeches at the sound of a bullet whizzing past his ears but sprints away asap when the goon's grip on him loosens. 

That's when Bucky feels the unmistakable muzzle of a gun at the back of his head. 

"On your feet, pal. Hold out the gun. Get walking."

Bucky has no choice but to obey. Back in the day, he'd have dropped this guy in seconds, even without getting a good look at him first. He's too rusty, though, and has no intel whatsoever about his captor except the obnoxious way he said 'pal'. 

"I got your partner at gunpoint," the captor shouts, and marches Bucky down to Foley Square, the weapon against his head never wavering. 

Trained, then. Probably military, judging by the speech pattern. 

The other Purgers emerge from behind the ambulance. Bucky risks a quick glance over his shoulder – yeah, everything about this guy screams soldier. Maybe even special ops. Back in the day, Bucky had these guys for breakfast. Back then, Bucky didn't have two civilians and a fellow vet to consider, either. 

"Reveal yourself," the captor shouts, "or I'll paint the concrete with his skull."

Dread twists Bucky's stomach. He knows he could lay the guy on his back in a second flat, but then he'd still be surrounded by about fifteen people who're out for blood and armed to their teeth.

"I surrender!" a voice shouts, followed by movement on top of the stairs. 

It's Peter. 

_Stupid kid,_ is all Bucky has time to think before he sees Peter fold a finger of his held-up hand – he's counting down. 

Of course Steve's the type to hatch a plan within seconds. Bucky would drool if he weren't so busy breaking his captor's elbow and taking the gun off him in one smooth move. 

Shots from two different directions – Steve and MJ – hail down on the Purgers not clinging to EMTs and Bucky has managed to take out two himself when a kick to his legs brings him to his knees.

His captor's still fighting. Yeah, definitely special ops. 

It's chaos from then on. 

The Parker kid is surprisingly agile but he's no use on the field. One punch knocks him out cold. MJ, for all her social justice warrior-ing and talk of knowing what you oppose, can't get a real shot in, though at least she drags Peter off to safety. 

And Steve's just one guy. A hell of one, sure, but they're still outnumbered five to one since Bucky's captor just – fucking – won't – go – down...

It would take nothing short of a miracle to – 

"You got no chance," the remaining EMT pants even as the Purger's grip tightens over her chest. "He's coming. Ezra called for help the second he was free."

"Shut up, bitch," the Purger growls. 

Bucky can't ask what that was about cause Steve's in trouble: bleeding from a split lip, taking on four Purgers at once.

Bucky tries to set up a shot, but they're moving too quickly, so he tackles the one closest to him before she can reload her AK-17 and do Steve in. He's on his feet moments later, stepping out of the way of the chick's feet. 

He collides with Steve's back. Under different circumstances, he might actually quite like the position. Now, it makes him grow cold all over as six guns are pointed at them. 

A glance confirms – the last EMT has been knocked out. All Bucky can hope for is that Peter and MJ make it through the night alive. And that these fuckers don't shoot him in the face. He'd always wanted an open casket. 

The sound of whirring, like chopper blades but infinitely faster, cuts through the air. 

For a moment, everyone freezes. 

Then several things happen at once. 

Bucky yanks Steve to the ground as the not-a-chopper reaches the Square and opens fire. Six well-aimed shots and the Purgers gasp, then collapse. Bucky spots a tiny, red-gold arrow stick out of the closest Purger's neck – incapacitated, not dead – before he looks up further to where the noise is coming from. 

The not-a-chopper thingy is actually a small aircraft. Enough room for about five people, powered by some sort of propulsion technology, stacked with weapons, and lacking any identifying markers except for the strangeness of it in the middle of Manhattan during the annual Purge.

The silence that follows doesn't last long. 

The voice that breaks it, however, is the last Bucky would have expected. 

"Phew, that was close. You're lucky your colleague caught me in a free moment, or you'da been put on the waiting list," Tony Stark says, hopping down from the pilot's seat. "Probably shoulda thought of that before sponsoring more ambulances this year. Well, by the next Purge I'll have perfected these little fellas and won't need to be everywhere at once, so there's –"

He breaks off when he comes face-to-face with Steve and Bucky, who've dusted themselves off and checked the other for lethal wounds. To Bucky's relief, neither of them has anything worse than a few scrapes and bruises. 

"What're you doing here? Don't you have a shop or something?"

"Not anymore, probably," Steve sighs. 

"Long story," Bucky says.

"M-Mr. Stark?"

"Kid? What're you – you're bleeding, jeez."

Of course they're all but forgotten the moment Peter appears. Bucky gives Steve an exasperated look, but the guy's gone to check first on the EMT, then the Purgers. Bucky heads to where his former captor is still lying and shapes restraints out of the guy's scarf before glancing at Steve who's bent over the last unconscious goon.

"They're out cold," Steve says.

"They better be! I developed the compound, after all." Stark has actually managed to disentangle himself from Parker and produces handcuffs from somewhere inside his mini-plane. "Enough time to tie them up somewhere out of the way. They're done purging for the night. Yo, Candice Brown, gimme a hand. You too, comrade." 

Bucky bristles at the nickname but complies. Steve, he notes, seems awkwardly pleased with his. 

When the freshly awoken EMT makes to help them, Stark stops her cause he thinks "the kid needs stitches", but he's bandaged up soon enough. They stash the Purgers out of sight of the main roads in positions that are bound to become uncomfortable – Bucky contends they deserve much worse – and reconvene in Foley Square.

The two other EMTs have somehow found their way back to their last team member and together they drive off into the night after cheery reminders from Stark to return the ambulances to HQ at the end of the night. 

"You're sponsoring them?" Peter asks, wide-eyed. 

"And some underground hospitals. Next year, there'll be robots, too. Oh, and more of these, cause I'm getting rid of the need for a pilot." Stark pats his aircraft affectionately. 

"Any chance you're sponsoring us a lift to Brooklyn?" Bucky cuts in. They really shouldn't remain in one place for too long. 

"Depends," Stark grins. "You gonna let me show you my kitchen, kid?"

"M-me?"

"Well, I'm not spending any more time with the socialist princess over here."

MJ snorts but doesn't argue. 

Peter blushes. "Um, yeah. I'd like that, Mr. Stark."

"Tony to you, kid."

Bucky mutters a curse in Russian. "Could you save your goddamn flirting till after we're off the street in the middle of the Purge?"

"Technically," Stark says, "it's only the beginning of the Purge. Okay, okay, I'm going, geez... Anyone ever tell you you're one scary son of a bitch, Barnes?"

"More than once," he growls and – finally – climbs into the aircraft. 

*

The shop is in ruins. 

There's no other word for it: windows are trashed, the little furniture they didn't lock up in the basement broken and splintered, cupboards torn off the walls. A glance into the kitchen makes all the air go out of Bucky's lungs – their state-of-the-art oven, a replacement paid for by their insurance after the previous Purge, is destroyed. There's no trace of their fridge, or their freezers. 

This time, their insurance ain't gonna cover nothing. 

Stark pauses. "But you won the money. That was the whole point of today, right?" 

Steve's still staring at what remains of his shop, so Bucky relates what happened at the insurance company (with more cursing than is probably necessary).

"You could share our kitchen?" Peter suggests. "Just until yours is, you know, restored..."

"And where are we supposed to cook?" MJ says. "And they'd need a shop front, too, Parker. Please do switch on your other brain again."

Peter blushes furiously at that. Behind him, Stark's expression has gone pensive. 

"Thanks," Bucky says, "but..." He meets Steve's gaze. Yeah. Ten grand is nowhere near enough to restore their bakery. 

"I could invest."

Everyone's eyes snap to Stark. 

"Seriously, guys, you're good. Really good. And once you get a real security system, not whatever flimsy shit that was protecting your windows – who even manufactures stuff like that? Anyway, once you get real security, you won't have to worry about refurnishing once a year beyond the normal cycles of redecoration that any self-respecting establishment should go through. We can set up a low-interest repayment schedule, and once you're the world's best pastry chef, I can say I got you there."

"You... you're kidding," Bucky says, cause Steve seems to have gone momentarily mute. "We're talking a lotta money here."

"Barnes, I'm building self-piloting aircraft in my free time. You really think a few grand are gonna affect me?"

"But..."

"No buts," Stark says. "Hey, why don't you come along to the Tower with me. You can talk it through with someone from legal, most of my employees are bunkered down there. Safest place in the city, I'm telling ya."

Which is how Bucky ends up in a meeting room at Stark Tower on Purge night, after Peter and MJ have been diligently dropped off in Queens, watching a dazed Steve sign a preliminary agreement with an SI lawyer. 

They're sent down to the cafeteria after that, but both of them come to a stop in the empty hallway on the way to the staircase. 

Steve exhales through his nose and leans against the wall, eyes closed. 

"You okay, punk?"

A nod. 

"Guess with that money, you can finally hire a real assistant, right? No need for pity hires anymore."  
A beat. 

"You weren't a pity hire, Bucky."

Steve's entire posture speaks of how tired he is, but his eyes are awake – and fierce as hell.

"Well. But it's okay if you don't wanna keep me on, Steve."

"Why wouldn't I wanna keep you on?"

"Cause of – you know..." Bucky flails a bit, grasping for words. "Back there. Me, slipping back into training for a bit. I... I'm dangerous."

"Everyone's dangerous, Bucky."

"Not like me."

"I'm glad that you're on my side, then."

He knows that tone. It's Steve's 'That's My Final Word' tone he only uses when one of the bakers doesn't know when to stop arguing. 

Bucky swallows another protest. "So what, you're really okay with me staying on?"

"I meant what I said, Buck. We're a team. Not just in the kitchen. I wouldn't wanna spend another Purge without you."

And isn't that just the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to him? How's he supposed to respond to that?

"Go out with me."

By throwing all plans of smooth-talking outta the window, apparently. 

"Yes."

... hang on. What?

"What?"

"Yes," Steve repeats, and his smile is wide and genuine. 

Bucky's left gaping. "You'll – on a date? With me?"

"Yes," Steve says again, this time with a chuckle, pushing off the wall and stepping into Bucky's personal space. "I've, uh, I've actually been meaning to ask you myself for a while."

"Yeah?"

Instead of answering, Steve closes what little space remains between them and captures Bucky's lips with his. 

And Bucky might not know whether or not this thing's gonna work out between them, or what the new shop will bring, or even what awaits them at the bottom of the staircase they're heading towards. 

All he knows is that Steve's a damn good kisser, and if they stay here till the annual Purge is over, it's more than fine by him. 

 

**EPILOGUE**

Everyone's staring at Bucky. They're not even subtle about it. 

Well, Bucky would be starting too, if a guy walked into his Purge night shelter carrying a four-tiered savory pie creation. But still, being on the receiving end sucks. 

"What, you never seen a guy carrying pie before?" he asks into the room. 

"That ain't a pie, brother, that's four," says a guy in a staff jacket. Sam, Bucky thinks he said his name was. "You sure that's all for us?"

Bucky nods. Stark told them to over-calculate cause apparently these shelters would only fill up more as the Purge went on. Lots of people are too proud to admit they need help, Stark said, until they got folks with guns chasing them. 

"Ah, I get it. You're the strong silent type, huh?"

"He's famous!" a boy suddenly pipes up. "I saw him on TV!"

Bucky winces. Having SI backing also means the firm's PR department meddling in their affairs, and the grande reopening had come with a lot of interviews. The official story of how Tony Stark had come to invest in their bakery is a lot less violent than the truth, but according to Tony that's par for the course if they wanna score air time under the New Founding Fathers. 

The boy is still staring up at him, something like awe in his eyes. "I wanna learn how to bake. Can you teach me?"

"Um..."

"Sure we can," Steve says, nudging the door shut behind him since his arms are stacked with a gazillion muffins. 

Bucky instantly relaxes. Steve's presence has that effect on him, even a year into their relationship. 

"Really?!"

"Yeah, we're teaching beginner courses for free."

"Sponsored by me, of course," comes a new voice, and Bucky almost drops the pies he's holding when the room erupts into deafening cheers. 

The kids at the shelter – about thirty, give or take – immediately flock around Tony Stark like he's the best thing since Christmas, while their parents stay behind, most smiling fondly. 

"Let's get these stored, brother," Sam says, and Bucky is only too grateful to follow the guy into the kitchen. 

A commotion outside has Sam dash out again, but Bucky seizes the moment to close his eyes and rub his temples. 

"You okay, Buck?"

"Yeah, yeah. All the screaming's just givin' me a headache."

"Want me to kiss it better?"

"Always, punk."

Which is what Steve does. Bucky still melts against his lips. He could spend all day just kissing this guy, hands on his biceps and leaning against that solid chest. 

It's still working, is the thing. They even moved in together into the flat above their shop six months ago, which continues to attract more customers every month. Best thing, though: with their new security system, there's no chance for vandalism. 

Meaning that once they're done here, they can relax for the first time since the tradition of the annual Purge began. If only they hadn't agreed to join Tony and Peter at the Tower. 

Speaking of which...

"Um, sorry," comes Peter's voice from the door. "We're all done here and we should probably go?"

Bucky reluctantly pulls back from Steve, who's smiling down at him and keeping a firm hold of Bucky's hips. 

"We've only got twenty minutes to Commencement, guys, I'm really sorry."

"It's fine, Parker," Bucky says, then grabs one of Steve's wrists and tugs him towards the exit.

He doesn't let go all the way back to the Tower.

 

_**The End.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Merlenhiver says Epilogues go against the rules of oneshots, but I totally contend they don’t. Anyway, here goes proof I’m capable of writing oneshots! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this.


End file.
